


i'll carry your world

by cynical_optimist



Category: Call Me Katie (Web Series)
Genre: ANGST ANGST ANGST ALL THE ANGST, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, and mother hen peter, enjoy some gleeson-centric angst, it seems i am incapable of writing pure fluff, the angst just sort of appeared, this was meant to be fluffy i swear, with concerned boyfriend bates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4501302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical_optimist/pseuds/cynical_optimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game night miraculously ends without anyone’s dismemberment or his parents storming through the door in a flurry of intense hatred and raised voices.  It’s even fun, incredibly so, especially when they decide to forgo the rules and “live their lives” how they wish. A gap year would be nice, he muses, if he had Bates with him the whole time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll carry your world

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I'd write some George Squared fluff on the train back from uni and it turned into this. Sorry? Credit to [douchenuts](http://douchenuts.tumblr.com/) for editing.
> 
> Enjoy, lovelies! x
> 
>  
> 
> Title from "Atlas" by Coldplay.

It’s been a week since Gleeson’s parents' last fight and he doesn’t quite know what to feel. He’s happy, of course, that for once they can have dinner without words as sharp as the knives they use flying over their glasses. Even so, he can’t help but be apprehensive. It feels manufactured; too good to be true. Every tense moment is discarded but not forgotten, more kindling for a fire that is begging to be lit.

 

 

Bates had noticed immediately, prodding and cajoling to get to the root of the issue. "It's not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside," he'd said. "I can't help unless you tell me what's wrong."

  
  


Gleeson didn't want to tell. He could deal with his parents perfectly well on his own. "I'm fine," he'd assured Bates. At his hurt look, he'd sighed. "I'm just worried the lack of fighting is too good to be true."

  
  


Telling him had made his chest ache with guilt. He shouldn’t feel that way, he knows—Peter’s given him enough lectures about how _friends-are-there-to-listen_ and _it-hurts-when-you-don’t-trust-us_ and _your-emotions-are-valid_ to teach at uni. Still, the clenching in his chest that appears when he confides in someone past a quick summary of his situation is unpleasant at best and painful at worst. Everyone has their own lives and issues to sort out without him angsting on top of all of it.

  
  


Bates had nodded, weaving their fingers together. "Okay, I can see why. Maybe you should enjoy the peace while it lasts, then. I'll be right here for you when it gets bad again."

  
  


“Thanks,” Gleeson had murmured, looking at their entwined hands.

  
There’s really no reason to worry.  It’s not as if his issues are even well-grounded. If his parents aren’t fighting, he should feel overjoyed. He just doesn’t. There are too many opportunities for it to go wrong.

 

 

So he can’t really be blamed if he still feels a little apprehensive about the games night. When he’d offered his house, he hadn’t even thought about it, too caught up in the high of Katie and Peter being friends and an A on his music assignment and being able to kiss his best friend whenever he felt like it. His parents are out at some fancy restaurant, “discussing separation details”, as if he hasn't known how to see through their lies since he was twelve years old and his dad told him “it was just a little disagreement; your mother and I still love each other very much.”

 

 

The game night miraculously ends without anyone’s dismemberment or his parents storming through the door in a flurry of intense hatred and raised voices.  It’s even fun, incredibly so, especially when they decide to forgo the rules and “live their lives” how they wish. A gap year would be nice, he muses, if he had Bates with him the whole time. When they begin to pack up and his parents aren’t home, he lets himself hope.

 

 

Bates is the last one out, hanging by the door with a concerned tilt to his mouth. Gleeson wants to kiss it off him, and does, because he can.

 

 

“Are you alright?” Bates asks when they pull away, undeterred. “I can stay if you want, or you can come over to my house.”

 

 

“I’m fine,” Gleeson assures him. “Really. They’ve actually been getting along recently, so it’s good.”

 

 

“I know when you’re troubled; you don’t have to hide that from me.” Bates looks so worried and Gleeson’s heart sinks. He doesn’t want to be the reason for any negative emotions in anyone, and especially not in Bates. He forces a smile.

 

 

“I’ve already had this talk from Peter,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about this, really. Mum and Dad are happy again; I just need to get used to it. Now go home and sleep or finish your film assignment. We both know you want to.”

 

 

Bates nods finally, stealing another kiss before heading out.

 

 

“Hey, G,” he calls, turning around as he reaches the road.

 

 

Gleeson shakes his head, hoping the neighbours won’t be too annoyed. “What?” he asks, _quietly_.

 

 

Bates grins mischievously. “You’re my forty-two.”

 

 

The line is cringeworthy, but Gleeson can’t help the grin that spreads over his face. “You’re a nerd,” he says.

 

 

Bates gasps, shocked. “That is extraordinarily offensive,” he says, far too loud for the quiet street. “I am hurt.”

 

 

Gleeson can’t stop grinning, his problems for a moment forgotten. “Go home,” he whisper-shouts, not wanting to wake the neighbours. Unless they’ve already been woken by Bates’ shouting. Even so, they deserve at least one night’s respite from the constant noise resonating from his place of residence.

 

 

“What sort of guy would tell his boyfriend that after insulting him so horrifically? Here I express my love for you, and you throw it right back in my face.” Bates shakes his head, smile betraying the shocked tirade.

 

 

“I love you, too,” Gleeson sighs, still smiling. “Go home. I’m tired.”

 

 

Bates bows dramatically. “If you insist,” he says. “Sleep well, babe. I’ll see you at school.”

 

 

Gleeson shuts the door, heart floating. That feeling manages to persist for a good twenty minutes until he’s almost asleep, teeth brushed and prosthetics off and pyjamas on (he won’t admit to having stolen one of Bates’ shirts when he stayed over the other night, but it smells like him and the writing on the front is some obscure pun he definitely doesn’t find funny). Then his parents at last burst through the door, not even bothering to keep their voices down. Their argument floats through the walls, removing any chance he may have had of a good night’s sleep. He makes a mental note to apologise to the neighbours in the morning.

 

 

“You always do this, Helen,” his dad shouts. “Every time it seems it might get better, you ruin it.”

 

 

“ _I_ ruin it?” his mum gasps. “So you thought that pretty brunette you were flirting with was going to help the situation?”

 

 

“We’re getting a divorce.”

 

 

“That was not a ‘let’s discuss divorce details’ dinner. That was supposed to be a second chance.”

 

 

“It was, until you brought up Melbourne again.”

 

 

“What, I’m not allowed to have a career now? You’d like that, wouldn’t you—“

 

 

“Have your bloody career! See if I care. What I won’t allow is for you to take George from his friends and school. He’s happy here.”

 

 

Gleeson blinks, pulling a pillow over his ears. He’ll have a killer headache in the morning. His phone buzzes and he glances at it, desperately trying to block out his parent’s shouts.

 

 

**Peter, 10:58 pm**

                           u alright? u looked worried earlier

 

 

He sighs, swallowing through the sudden lump in his throat. He hates it when his parents bring him into their fights, as if he is no more than another insult to hurl. As if he is the real reason for their fights. He hates it when he can’t conceal his feelings well enough, because that’s when the fights are the worst.

 

 

**Me, 11:03 pm**

                           I’m okay. Parents are fighting again.

 

 

**Peter, 11:04 pm**

                           u want 2 come ovr?

 

 

**Me, 11:07 pm**

                           No thanks.

 

 

**Peter, 11:08 pm**

                           want me to call bates?

 

 

**Me, 11:10 pm**

                           No, he doesn’t need to worry.

 

 

**Peter, 11:10 pm**

                           ur allowed to feel sad, u no. ur allowed to talk abt ur feelings

 

 

**Me, 11:15 pm**

                           I’m just tired.

 

 

**Peter, 11:17 pm**

                           ok. call me if u need 2 talk

or bates.

 

 

Gleeson doesn’t reply, instead grabbing his earphones off his bedside table. Music has always soothed him—it’s ever-present without being overbearing, filling his mind until there is no room for self-pity or the constant shouting of his parents. It’s easier to smile when he has music.

 

 

When he was ten years old and still getting used to walking by himself, his dad sat him down for a “serious chat.”

 

 

“Always keep a smile on your face,” he’d encouraged. “The world is a messed-up place, filled with terrible situations and difficult people. If we keep smiling, we can make it a little better.”

 

 

“You and Mum are happier when I smile,” he’d observed. “You don’t get mad as much.”

 

 

His dad had nodded sombrely. “Well, if you can be happy, why should we be sad? Your smile could light up cities, George.”

 

 

Gleeson had smiled then, and he tried not to stop, now tries not to let tears fall when someone mocks his music or sneer at him when he falls. His dad has failed miserably in brightening the world, but it doesn’t matter.

 

 

He can handle it on his own.

 

 

_fin_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> All credit for the "You're my forty-two" line goes to [this person](http://archive.wired.com/geekdad/2010/04/top-10-geeky-ways-to-say-i-love-you/) because I am, unfortunately, not able to come up with such a phenomenal way to say "I love you." I wish I were, but I am not.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://athousandsplendidsunsets.tumblr.com/)
> 
> xx


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